Vengeance
by Dean and Sammy
Summary: [ONESHOT] Vengeance is useless if you're dead.


**Title: **Vengeance.

**Disclaimer: **We don't own Supernatural. (rubs hands together gleefully) Don't worry; we're working on it...

**Warnings: **None, really. No slash or incest unless you want to see it.

**Setting: **During 'Devil's Trap'. Alternative ending.

**A/N: **Another demonstration of the horizontal line. (smiles) Seriously, we love that thing. Please review!

* * *

"_I'm not going to let you sacrifice yourself to kill this demon. D'you hear me, Sam?"_

_Sam shot Dean an unreadable look, then turned his eyes back to the road, staring straight ahead stubbornly._

"_I mean it, Sammy. Vengeance is useless if you're dead."_

* * *

Their demon wearing their father's face is taunting him, while Dean is lying unconscious on the floor. Blood drips from his father's nose and mouth and despair swallows Sam whole.

"Do you want to know why I killed them?" the demon jeers in amusement.

"Who? Mom and Jessica?" Sam asks automatically, struggling to get free from the invisible hold the demon had on him.

"No, your father and brother," the demon says, with a smirk.

Sam feels his insides freeze up and he stops struggling. "They're not dead."

"They will be," the demon replies and Sam can feels raw hatred settle on his bones. "Your dad's weak already. I'm the only one keeping him alive. As for your brother- we're going to have some real fun watching him bleed dry."

"Bastard," Sam grinds out, thrashing against the wall. "Why do you have to take it out on _them_? You said you wanted me, my powers."

The demon smiles. "Your powers- isn't it amusing how they're what got your entire family killed, but in the end, you couldn't use them to save yourself?"

"Ironic: yes; amusing: no," Sam replies, still struggling. His left wrist is almost definitely broken, and he's dizzy from blood loss.

The demon –still in his father's form- walks over to Dean's body with a smirk. Sam looks on in horror, seeing blood covering just about every part of Dean's body.

"He's dead," the demon says, his voice soft and cruel.

"Liar," breathes Sam, just staring at his brother's form. "_Liar_."

"I guess it's all he deserved, really," the demon says in mock-sorrow. "Such a pity. Such a _waste_. Such a..."

Sam feels hatred rise up in him, hatred like he's never felt before. It consumes him, swallows every particle, deep down to his core. Darkness settles on his soul -or what's left of it, anyway. Before he can think about it, the Colt rises up and shoots the demon wearing his father's face.

His father's body falls to the ground, and, strangely, Sam feels no regret. He doesn't need to check the body to know that his dad won't be getting up again.

Instead, he rushes to Dean's side. His bloodied body is still warm, and, shakily, Sam puts his head down to Dean's chest. No heartbeat.

The sickly-sweet scent of blood wafts through the air. It's in Sam's hair, on his fingertips, on his clothes- he's bleeding, bleeding everywhere.

But it's his heart that hurts.

* * *

He drives the car away, as far away as he can go. Several days and one minor car accident later, he realizes he needs to sleep –if only so that Dean's precious car doesn't get hurt. He drives to a seedy motel, out of habit ordering a room with two beds.

There's a bed right next to the door of the room, and Sam knows that if Dean was here, that's where he'd sleep, so that if something attacked in the night, he could protect them.

Sam curls up on the bed, clutching Dean's leather jacket to himself. He buries his face in the jacket, imagining Dean's scent.

He cries himself to sleep.

* * *

He knows that, since he's the only one left, it's up to him. With a heavy heart, he knocks on Cassie's door. She greets him with a smile.

"Dean's dead."

The words tumble from his mouth before he can think about them. Cassie looks at him, shocked.

"I'm sorry," she says gently, even as her own eyes fill with tears.

A man comes to stand at the door by her. He's tall, even taller than Sam, and, if he could bring himself to care, he might feel intimidated.

"Sam, this is my- fiancé, Peter. Peter, this is a friend of mine, Sam."

Sam shakes the man's hand numbly, listening to Cassie's introductions. He feels a pang of sadness that this could be Dean, and then a wave of anger that Cassie has already moved on.

He mumbles a goodbye and leaves in a hurry, declining Cassie's offer to stay for dinner.

* * *

He drives and he drives and after passing Lawrence three times, he knows he's been going in circles. He debates whether to go and tell Missouri about Dean then reasons that she'd already know.

He pulls out his cell phone with a sigh, looking over the familiar list. His fingers fumble with the buttons and before he can wonder what he's doing, they've dialed the number.

"Hello?"

Rebecca's voice answers his call. Sam feels a wave of relief at being able to _talk _to someone and not having to hold anything back. Well, not anything about the supernatural.

"Hi, uh, Becky, it's me, Sam."

"Hi, Sam! I haven't heard from you for _ages_." Her voice is sweet, sensitive and it calms him. "What's up?"

Sam pauses. "Dean died."

It sounds so raw, so empty, so _final_, just put like that.

There is a shocked silence, then- "Oh, god, I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Was it a demon?"

"I- uh-" Sam tries to get the words out, but it's hard when he doesn't know what he's trying to say. "I better go; it was stupid to call. See you."

"Wait, Sam-"

Before she can finish the sentence, he's pressed the disconnect button. He leans his head against the steering wheel, feeling the cold metal press against his face.

He wonders what the hell he's still doing there.

* * *

He drives and he drives and he eats and he showers and then he drives some more. He ignores all the visions he gets; downing painkillers like his life depends on it.

The visions only get worse when he ignores them, but he can't bring himself to care. He's vowed never again to use the powers that couldn't save Dean, that couldn't save _him_, and he's going to keep his promise. He hears voices sometimes, people crying and yelling, accusing him of watching them die when he could have done something about it.

He wonders when he got so cold, when he could watch people die in his head and not feel a damn thing. When he could see children ripped apart by monsters and not even bother to _warn _them, to do... anything.

He realizes it's when he died along with Dean.

* * *

"_I'm not going to let you sacrifice yourself to kill this demon. D'you hear me, Sam?"_

_Sam shot Dean an unreadable look, then turned his eyes back to the road, staring straight ahead stubbornly._

"_I mean it, Sammy. Vengeance is useless if you're dead."_


End file.
